[Sidenote: If not for two items, this would be a funny story--the Atomic
Age brought back the 1925 vogue, and inhibition is not shatter-proof.]
On a clear spring evening in 2189, Charles Edward Button came home half
an hour late for his supper, tossed his hat to the robot butler who came
out from behind the DoItAll, and announced that he had just bought a
planet.
[Illustration]
His wife, Betty, was looking small and long-suffering on a plastic
reproduction of a Victorian love-seat, and her cousin Aurelia, a large,
handsome woman, was standing behind her protectively.
"Of course," he informed them, "it's not a _big_ planet. But what a
bargain! With real oceans, and two moons, and--"
"Real estate, real estate, real estate!" Cousin Aurelia's tart voice cut
him off in mid-sentence. "You know what's come of every one of your
investments. Call the man _right now_ and tell him you want your money
back!"
"I'm afraid it's too late." Charles avoided her eye. "I bought it up at
a tax-auction and--well, the government never refunds."
"I _thought_ so. A planet nobody wants. Probably all run down, with
swamps and deserts, and in some dreadful, shabby district where the
neighbors have squirmy tentacles, or eyes on stalks, or big, nasty
beaks!"
"It isn't at all. It's in a good neighborhood--only two systems away
from the Inchcapes' new summer planet. A little remote, but that means
more privacy." He took a catalogue out of his pocket. "'Parcel 71,'" he
read. "'Sugar Plum, a Class IV planet'--that means it's like Earth, only
bigger--'claimed 8/12/85 by Space Captain Alexander Burgee, under
Planetary Homestead Act of 2147 (amended.)' And here's his description
of the place where he landed: 'Neat as a pin, fine climate, full of
critters and fish, quite uninhabited.' He was lost in Deep Space, poor
fellow. That's why they sold it."
* * * * *
Betty smiled faintly. "The Inchcapes call their planet Bide-A-Wee. I
think Sugar Plum's ever so much nicer. But--but can we afford it?"
"We certainly can't!" fumed Cousin Aurelia. "We'll put it back on the
market and salvage whatever we can."
"No, we won't," Charles said firmly. "And it's not just a summer resort.
We're pulling up stakes to live there all year round."
Betty gasped.
Cousin Aurelia straightened up, bristling.
"I have made up my mind," Charles went on. "I have done a lot of serious
thinking." He pointed at the heavily framed neo-daguerreotype portraits
on the walls. "Our ancestors rediscovered the only _true_ principles,
those of the great Nineteenth Century. They brought the Second Victorian
Age into being. Civilization reached its peak, its full flowering. But
now all is crumbling before the poisonous onslaught of modernism. We who
have not been corrupted must seek out a refuge. That, Cousin, is why I
bought Sugar Plum."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Cousin Aurelia. "There may be changes everywhere
else, but never in Boston."
"Ha!" Charles looked at his watch. "Solomon!" he called out.
The butler came bowing out of the DoItAll nook, where the servants
stayed when they were switched off. He wore a swallowtail coat and
knee-breeches, and had kinky white hair. Made to order, he was Cousin
Aurelia's idea.
[Illustration]
"Yassuh, Marse Charles. Here Ah is."
"Solomon," ordered Charles, "tune in Watson Widgett."
Betty paled, uttering a polite little scream.
"Are you _mad_?" cried Cousin Aurelia. "I've heard about him. I'll not
have that man in _my_ home!"
Charles squared his shoulders. "Cousin, may I remind you that _I_ am
head of this house, and that we are _Victorians_? It's high time you
found out what's going on. Solomon!"
"Yass_uh_."
There was a click from the DoItAll, a brief flash of light and a figure
appeared in their midst, a cheerful young man in loose trousers and
shirt, without coat, waistcoat, cravat, or even a pair of suspenders. He
was grinning at Cousin Aurelia.
"Boys and girls," he was saying, "Wyoming has outlawed corsets! The
folks in Siskiyou, California, have given women the vote! And listen to
this. The Bikini swimsuit--just a wisp and a twist--is back on the
market!" He winked loathsomely. "Yes, indeed, our prize fake Victorians,
our second-hand stuffed shirts, are due for a fall. Here's the best news
today, from a cute little lady right here in old Boston." He unfolded a
paper. "Dear Watsy, When I first found your program, I was a real Mrs.
Biedermeyer. Marriage was something we gentlewomen tried to endure while
we knitted an anti-macassar. It wasn't supposed to be fun. Then a friend
tipped me off to your--"
At this point, Cousin Aurelia emitted a shriek, rolled her eyes and
crumpled to the carpet.
Charles gestured and the commentator vanished with a click and a flash.
Betty scurried out and returned with the smelling salts.
Presently, Cousin Aurelia regained her senses, shivered, and said, "It's
too awful for words. If it were not for Betty, I would surely have left
long ago. As it is, I shall go where you go, to protect her, of course."
Then she permitted Betty to help her to her feet and out of the room.
"Solomon!" Charles called loudly.
"Yassuh, Marse Charles."
"Set the table for two," Charles commanded. "I shall dial the dinner
myself."
He felt very adventurous and masterful. Dialing dinner without aid was
fine training in self-reliance.
* * * * *
Six weeks later, the three of them stood on the bridge of the space
freighter _Beautiful Joe_, watching Sugar Plum as the vessel entered an
orbit around it.
But Charles Edward Button didn't feel at all masterful, or even
adventurous.
They stood next to Possett, the skipper, a great, hairy man with gold
teeth, a bad squint, and an air of gloomy cunning about him. After her
first look at Possett, Cousin Aurelia had locked herself in her cabin,
allowing no one but Betty to approach her, and threatening to subsist on
the half-dozen cases of Dr. Stringfellow's Vegetable Remedy she kept
under her berth. Charles, however, had been sure that Possett's heart
was both kindly and chivalrous.
"Take those tall stories of his," he said more than once. "Betty, they
don't mean a thing. Old spacedogs love to kid tenderfeet. Imagine trying
to make me believe that it's dangerous out here! And all that malarkey
about Captain Burgee being a pirate or something!"
They stared at Sugar Plum, at its small polar ice caps, its seas, its
continents greener than Earth's, its wandering white clouds. Not many
hours before, it had been only a dust mote, a pinpoint of light in the
void. Now it filled half the sky. And suddenly Charles understood the
immensities, the unspeakable stretches of space in which Boston had
vanished.
Shivering, he wished he were home, stiffly safe in a curlicued chair,
with Solomon dialing his dinner for him.
"Nice piece of property," grunted Possett around his cigar. "Too bad
about--" He broke off with a shrug.
"About what?" asked Charles, alarmed.
"I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if Burgee comes around and finds
you'd run off with his planet."
"Burgee? He was lost out in space!"
"His kind don't stay lost. Chances are he's hiding out from the law. But
it's none of my business. Just thought I'd warn you."
Charles laughed weakly. "You c-can't frighten me. I'm sure there aren't
any pirates in space any more."
Possett turned to his weasel-faced mate. "Loopy, call the New Texas
spaceport. Get Mac on the screen."
The mate nodded. He twiddled a dial and punched at a switch. The screen
glowed. After some seconds, the face of a red-haired person appeared,
looking rather disgusted.
"New Texas, New Texas," came a voice. "I hear you, _Beautiful Joe_. What
the hell do you want?"
"Dude aboard wants some info," said Possett. "Wants to know what Burgee
did for a living--Alexander Burgee. Also, are the coppers still trying
to find him?"
The face frowned. "Possett, you know damn well Burgee was a pirate. You
know he's been listed as lost. Now quit wasting my time. New Texas out."
The face vanished. The mate snickered nastily. And Charles just stood
there gaping.
"A real pirate!" squeaked Cousin Aurelia. "Wh-what would he do? Would he
_kill_ us?"
"Might do anything. But--" eying her, Possett leered--"he's like me.
Likes 'em well fattened up. Lady, you needn't worry."
Cousin Aurelia paled. She started to sway. Then, perhaps recalling the
uncarpeted deck, she recovered and looked haughty instead.
"I am going right back to my cabin," she proclaimed, and stalked off the
bridge.
"Cousin Aurelia is very genteel," Betty snapped at the captain. "You had
no right to insult her. Besides, she's only twenty pounds overweight."
"Don't mind me. I go for her type." Possett shook his head darkly and
turned toward Charles. "Button, man to man, a back-country planet's no
place for the ladies. Look, I'll take the thing off your hands. I can
handle Burgee. Twelve thousand cold cash for your stuff and the deed,
and I'll throw in a lift to New Texas. There's a liner from there."
Charles thought of the comfortable Earth and was tempted. "But I paid
thirty-five," he protested uncertainly. "I mean, twelve is--"
"Take it or leave it. I'm trying to do you a favor."
"No, I guess we'll leave it," answered Betty.
Charles looked around in surprise. Her lips were compressed, her blue
eyes narrowed with astonishing determination.
"We've come all this way," she declared, "so we might as well keep it. I
think it has--well, possibilities. We've had the whole house done over
and the servants remodeled. And we'll have all the DoItAll
services--teleprojection, medical care, and everything else--from the
New Texas substation. I'm sure we'll get along nicely."
The skipper of the _Beautiful Joe_ wasn't pleased. "It's your necks.
Don't be blaming me for what happens," he growled. "Well, where do you
want to set down?"
"Set down?" gulped Charles. "R-right now?"
"Land and unload, it says in the contract. I ain't got all day. I'll
dump you at Burgee's old landing, load up with fresh water, and blast
off for New Texas."
Charles had no other spot in mind.
"Okay," Possett said to the two robot crewmen at the main controls,
"take her down."
* * * * *
At the waterfall's edge, flowering trees twisted their roots in the
cliffside, and a fresh wind scattered plumes of its spray through their
leaves. Taller trees, bell-blossomed, fanned out from the pool, gave way
to a meadow, and followed the course of the stream down a broadening
valley--among faceted boulders of translucent quartz, rose-pink, green,
and golden, sheltering small, lustrous spires of fragile fungi.
On the meadow stood the house, the latest in Second Victorian, complete
with carved plastic false-front in early Schenectady Gothic. The Buttons
themselves, with Cousin Aurelia, stood in front of it. They wore long
linen dusters and sun helmets with heavy mosquito veils. They were going
exploring.
Cousin Aurelia was sputtering: "Do you know what he said when he left?
'Kid, you come along with Mike Possett. You don't want no part of that
planet. I'll show you a ripsnorting time!' Then he gave me a look
that--that was positively _lecherous_." She shuddered. "At least we'll
have no more of that nonsense. Your planet is uninhabited."
Betty looked worried. "I've the funniest feeling," she said. "As if
someone was watching."
"That's absurd!" snapped Cousin Aurelia. "You must be imagin--" She
stopped in her tracks. "Wh-what's _that_?"
They looked. A large, soft, fuzzy beast had come out from under the
trees. It was reddish and had very big feet. It blinked at them
brightly, climbed a transparent green rock, and started to whistle, not
too tunefully, through its long Roman nose.
Almost instantly, another emerged, a size smaller. Lowering its eyelids
coquettishly, it began clapping its forepaws.
"Charles, they must be the 'critters' Burgee mentioned in that
catalogue. Remember? I'm sure they're perfectly harmless."
Two more animals appeared and made for a rock of their own. And then
there were, suddenly, dozens--all around the edge of the meadow. These
were petite, creamy, with lavender ears. They came bounding forward in
pairs, sat up and regarded the Buttons solemnly.
Charles began to relax. Somehow, Sugar Plum didn't seem half so enormous
any longer, now that they weren't so alone.
"I wonder if they could be tamed." Betty was wistful.
"They're certain to be just full of fleas," sniffed Cousin Aurelia.
The creatures were playful. As the Buttons walked over the meadow, they
frolicked around them--
But they also were very affectionate. As they frolicked, they flirted.
Every once in a while, each pair would pause to rub noses, to murmur
seductively, to nip one another.
At first, Cousin Aurelia tried to pretend they weren't there. But
finally she halted. "Charles Edward Button, I won't go a step farther
till you drive those nasty things away. It's disgraceful. They're apt to
do--anything!"
Charles flushed under his netting. "Shoo!" he said ineffectively. "Beat
it!"
There was a swift patter of feet straight ahead and a figure flashed
into view. She was slim. She was small, with a girdle and headdress of
feathers. Her skin was sky-blue, and her ears were pointed, and her eyes
were simply enormous. But she looked distressingly human.
In an instant, she vanished. As the Buttons stood there goggling, they
heard more running footsteps, somewhat heavier, and a scuffle, a giggle,
a clear, tenor laugh, and then silence.
"Why, that was a girl!" Betty gasped.
"She was being pursued!" Charles exclaimed. "He--he caught her!"
"Oooh!" moaned Cousin Aurelia, covering her eyes. "Charles, how _could_
you? Enticing us here, saying it was uninhabited!"
Then, before Charles could find a reply:
"Unin_hab_ited?" chuckled a deep male voice right behind them. "It
certainly isn't. It's just unin_hib_ited!"
* * * * *
Slowly, the Buttons turned around. There, by an odd square tree, stood a
man even bigger than Possett, smoking a pipe. He was middle-aged. He
wore a heavy brown beard, khaki shorts, a deep coat of tan, and a
self-possessed smile.
He bowed. "Burgee is my name--Space Captain Alexander Burgee. Glad to
make your acquaintance."
"It's him!" screamed Cousin Aurelia. "And he's practically naked!" She
pointed a cotton-gloved finger, began backing away. "You fiend, don't
you come any nearer. Don't you _touch_ me!"